You are currently reading a live book, meaning a literary work that is being built in front of an audience one paragraph at the time instead of taking a year off at a log cabin in Switzerland with nothing but a typewriter, a pipe and a healthy collection of alcohol, scrutinizing every little detail along the way before you finally lose it and decide to burn the entire manuscript while dancing around in your Loro Piana cashmere robe, suddenly falling over head first into the enameled lava countertop, splitting your head open and die a slow death.
This is a collection of short stories, perceptions and random thoughts woven together in real-time with no other purpose than to create an emotion, spark an idea or just waste your time. But, at least you are wasting your time reading, which we all know is more socially accepted than wasting time watching other things. This is, at its very core, the literary equivalent of learn-by-doing. When will it end? When will it fall short? When will Penguin Random House call and claim dibs? Nobody knows.. as Paul Brady sang on the highly underrated Trick or Treat album released in 1991, and nobody cares. You shouldn’t care. Take it for what it is. Read it. Like it? Continue reading. Don’t like it? Piss off or continue reading just to torture yourself. You probably won’t be entertained by anything consisting of more than three consecutive words anyway so just pretend and come along for the ride. Remember, reading is a socially accepted form of isolating yourself. Enjoy.
The creator of the Fuzzy Bogart universe currently resides in Oslo, Norway.
I reject your reality and substitute my own